In Fidelity Ch. 06

Exactly one week after Lust has gone, I receive a call from a woman on the opposite side of town who has some sex equipment she thinks I might be interested in. I normally don't bother with house clearance, but this woman seems to know what she's talking about: she mutters about the uses of the sex swings and bondage releases and all sorts of other things that suggest we're not just talking about a couple of old dildos and a set of handcuffs that she's grown out of using.

Her house is enormous. The sort of house that might have wondered here from a wealthier and larger parcel of land and not been able to find its way back; and she's mid-thirties, kind of cute looking in a slightly old fashioned way, and is wearing loose jeans with decorative tears, and a loose strappy singlet That judging by the nipple outlines I can see poking through, does not have anything underneath it.

"Let's see what you've got!" I say somewhat brightly after walking through to see her spacious living-room.

She shrugs and drops her jeans and singlet to the floor to reveal her, slightly careworn, but still in great shape, body. I'm more than a little surprised by this, but happy to see her naked all the same. Her tits are slightly saggy but her nipples are still aimed at me, not the floor. Her skin looks smooth, she seems to have kept in good shape, and her pussy looks to either get waxed or have had laser-hair-removal treatment.

I cough feeling slightly taken aback all the same. "I meant your equipment up for sale rather than..." Hand gestures at her body.

"Oh! Right." She comprehends, as if this was a simple misunderstanding, and ignoring her clothing now laying in a small pile on the floor, she walks over to a small built-in cupboard next to the stairs leading to the upper level. I'm somewhat surprised to see that rather than housing bedsheets, towels or appliances, there's actually a staircase descending staircase to a lower level concealed behind the door.

I follow her down, and am amazed to behold the quantity and quality of stuff she has; she's got equipment I've always dreamed of owning, ever since I began collecting sexual items and movies. There are things here I have only seen and masturbated to in the kinkiest BDSM porn that I own.

There's chains and bondage items built into the ceiling, walls and floor; there's a skeletal suit that can lock a body into any position imaginable whilst leaving everything essential on display and accessible. There's dildo machines that thrust in any direction you could think of, there's clamps, there's shockers, there's straps, there's weights, there's rings, and ropes, and hoists, and cages, and masks, and funnels, and dildos, and hoses, and fleshlights (mechanical and manual), and machines, and mousetraps, and speculums, and needles, and vibrator wands, and a complete kitchen!

I've never seen some of these things. I've not even seen someone who's seen these things.

"What d'you reckon?" She's walking around the room, running her hands softly over some of the items.

"It's the best collection I've ever seen or dreamed of!" I have no idea what to offer her. This lot must be worth thousands and thousands of dollars, and she knows it. Where am I going to get that kind of money from?

"I'm not sure I'm up to date with how everything works..." I'm stalling for time as I don't want to just leave this stuff here.

"Let me show you."

She walks to the kitchen and pours a large glass of scotch which she brings to me, then goes over to start strapping herself in to the bondage suit.

I walk over and help her finish closing and tightening the last few clamps, and am left questioning whether this is reality or if I'm in a dream.

"You realise I could potentially just leave you here, take everything you have and just clear out?" I mention to her as she's locked in a position like a store mannequin, and completely restrained by the skeletal metal bondage suit.

"You could also use all of this equipment on me and fuck me to your heart's content in any position," she tells me. "It's sound-proof down here so we won't be found."

I still can't believe this is happening right now, but I know how to make the best of an opportunity when I see it. I walk over and grab a vibrating wand on a stand and a dildo machine, and bring both over to the woman, who I then adjust into a doggystyle position making her look like the number 7.

I place the vibrating wand onto her clitoris and turn it on, then place the dildo machine behind her, and start it fucking her pussy with a long and thick rubber dick.

I walk back around to the front of her, and pull my dick out, and while her face is an image of orgasmic ecstasy, she opens her mouth, wide like a good little slut, and I force my cock down her throat and start face-fucking her. Honestly, she's not in much of a state to be offering out blowjobs, given the level of stimulation being dealt to her body, so I don't really see what alternative I had but to slam my shaft down her small throat repeatedly; otherwise what's really in it for me? I questioned at first whether she'd see things in this same light, but it isn't long before I see her body go into convulsions I recognise, and a large spray of vagina juice gets ejected from her amid a multi-layered orgasm.

Feeling she's earned a bit of a break after this, so after stopping the dildo machine from fucking her, I stand her body upright and move the magic wand to stimulate her from beneath, then pick my glass of scotch up from where I'd placed it, and walk around the room looking for what I can use on her next. I place my glass on a shelf and take some of the clamps, needles, weights and shockers down, then carry this stash back over to the masturbated mannequin I have set up. It's more fun than I'd expected, watching a helpless woman's body getting delivered endless sex-organ stimulation.

I'm aware that her body is now going to be in a state of heightened sensitivity following her orgasm, so I'm hesitant to go too hard on her with the objects I've retrieved just yet; as much as I can see she wants it.

I start with the nipple clamps and attach one to each of the perky pink tips of her breasts. She gasps as they go on, before releasing a loan moan in a mixture of both pleasure and pain. As I see she's starting to recover, I up my game and hook some of the weights on to the end of each clamp; pulling her tender nipples to the floor.

My eyes are really wandering now as I want to do everything I can to this woman with all this equipment while I can use it, as there's no way I'll be able to afford what she'll be asking for it.

I start poking different parts of her body using the electric shockers, enjoying the squeals of pain each time I shock her body, especially around her more sensitive areas.

I realise that this all really should come to an end before too much longer, or she'll be massively pissed off that I'm just fucking around with her wasting her time.

I grab a mask from the shelf with a funnel attached and a mouth piece that forces the wearer to keep their mouth open to receive whatever gets poured down the funnel. I fasten this around her willing head, and manoeuvre her body back into more of a fucking-friendly posture, with her ass pointing out a little more than usual, and then I go over and start fucking that ass while the vibrating wand still pleasures her clit. It's immediately clear that my dick isn't one of the first, or even hundred and first, objects to penetrate this rear entrance, but it's nice all the same. It's not every day a woman is bound up and waiting for your every move and desire to be fulfilled while constantly having her sexual arousal on display, and I made the most of it.

I kept on fucking her ass and reaching around to pull on her nipple clamps till I felt myself about to cum, and I shot my load into the remaining scotch in my glass and poured it all down the funnel into her mouth.

I hear a mixture of coughing and swallowing as the liquid hits her throat, but she gets it down in the end, and I remove the mask from her head to see her face alight with excitement as she's breathing heavily.

"Fuck yes!" She tells me, and I go to remove the vibrating wand from her pussy and release her from bondage.

"Not yet! I'm..."

I look up and see her body clench again as she's captured by another orgasm, and once I'm sure she's finished, I remove the wand and undo the fasteners on the metal suit.

"Everything here," she tells me as she steps out of the suit. "Yours for fifty bucks; but you have to take it upstairs and remove it all yourself."

I look at her. We're now officially in Joke Fantasy Land, where little old ladies pay good money to persuade you to cart off their Chippendale furniture. Except I am not dealing with a little old lady, and she knows perfectly well that what she has here is worth a hell of a lot more than fifty bucks! What's going on?!

"Are these stolen?"

She laughs. "Wouldn't really be worth my while, would it, getting all this lot here out someone's window and downstairs to just sell it for fifty bucks? No, they belong to my husband."

"And you're not getting on too well with him at the moment?" I'm slowly realising that I didn't just do all of those sexual things to a slutty woman, I did them to some bloke's wife!

"He's in Spain with some twenty-three year old. Some slut he met on Sugar-Daddies or something. He had the fucking cheek to phone up and ask to borrow some money and I refused, so he asked me to sell his sex toys collection and send him a cheque for whatever I got, minus ten percent commission. Which reminds me. Can you make sure you give me a five dollar bill? I want to frame it and put it on the wall."

"It must have taken him a lot of time and effort to get together?"

"Years. This collection is as close as he has ever come to an achievement."

"Does he work?"

"He calls himself a pimp but..."

She scowls her disbelief and contempt. "He just sponges off me and sits around on his fat ass staring at porn."

Imagine coming home and finding all your prized collection and most treasured possessions flogged off for nothing out of sheer spite, and your wife submitted herself to the guy who took it; sucking him off and getting fucked anally before swallowing his cum. What would you do? What would you say?

"Look, can't I pay you properly for some of it at least? You don't have to tell him what you got. You could send the forty-five bucks anyway, and blow the rest. Or give it to charity. Or something."

"That wasn't part of the deal. I want to be poisonous, but fair."

"I'm sorry, but it's just... I don't want any part of this."

"Suit yourself. There are plenty of others who will. Maybe I'll get to have some more fun with them first too."

"Yeah, I know. You should just come work for me if you're looking to really screw him over. Fuck! You're his number one sextoy it seems. I'll pay you and he won't get a cent of it."

"And the sex stuff?"

"Bring it to work! Donate it and send him nothing! Fuck! Or say I bought it, send him five bucks from your first pay and I'll write you up a receipt for the fifty and get a tax write-off.

She smiles and nods at me and I hand her my business card. "I'll pay for the Airtasker to move it out of here, you get my work and I'll give you another test run."

"You think I'll make any real money?" She asks me, performing a small self-assessment.

"Honestly," I say, looking her up and down to make her feel like I'm making a judgement up on the spot; while in truth I've known what I'm about to say since the moment I saw her naked earlier on.

"Your market is MILF. Your body's great, your holes are great and you're experienced.."

"So..."

"So you need fake tits. It's part of the 'MILF' look."

She looks at me long and hard. "So, you won't take any of this stuff in the meantime?"

"I'm sorry," I repeat. "I don't want any part of how this transaction is working out."

How come I ended up siding with the bad guy, the man who's left his wife and taken himself off to Spain with some nymphette? Why can't I bring myself to feel whatever it is his wife is feeling? Maybe I should go home and flog one of Lust sculptures to someone who wants to smash it to pieces and use it for scrap; maybe that would do me some good. But I know I won't. All I can see is that guy's face when he gets his pathetic cheque through the mail, and I can't help but feel desperately, painfully sorry for him.

It would be nice to report that life is full of exotic incidents like this, but it isn't. I get approached by someone trying to convince me to vote for an unheard of person in an upcoming election; Lust's mum doesn't call, but mine does. She thinks Lust might be more interested in me if I took some evening classes. We agree to differ or, at any rate, I hang up on her. And the two of Marcus's friends fall through at the last minute, so we end up going to Vivian's strip club with Alice and Bronte from Championship, and we are indeed on the V.I.P. List and get shown through to a roped off area with more comfortable lounges to the side of the bar. We get a pretty great look at the stage from here, but after really experiencing Vivian, the girls on now just feel to me like a warm-up act.

The good news: 1) We get plastered on free spirits all night. 2) By the time Vivian comes out we are all incredibly horny and the girls are highly suggestable, so Marcus and I get to watch her seducing us while Bronte and Alice suck our cocks. I can't help but smile down at Alice when I feel her tongue reach out to lick my balls while my shafts extended deep down her neck. 3) We get a mention: "So, ladies and gents, this will be one of my last dances for you all, I've decided the Stripper life isn't for me."

There's a collection of 'booing' in the audience, but she shakes her bits at everyone till they quiet back down.

"I'm going to start working at Championship Sexual. If you want to see and feel a whole lot more of me and my sisters, you should all definitely check it out!" 3) I love the mention, but I still want to be published in print somewhere, despite the fact I'm really struggling by in life right now not knowing which way is up, just drinking and fucking excessively, somehow still feeling really hung-up over Lust. (Is that good news? Maybe it's bad news, definite, final proof that I'm mad, but it's good news in that I still have ambition of sorts.)

The bad news: 1) Vivian spots someone in the crowd as she leaves the stage. A bloke. Someone who shares a long hug and kiss with her with an intimacy I don't like, and looks at her in a way that suggests he'll be featured heavily on any of her publications long before I will. This guy's got perfectly wavy brown hair, cheekbones, and he's well over nine-feet tall, but he's got muscles too (he's wearing a short sleeved black shirt).

I know my sexual relationship confidence is not high at the moment, and I know that women are not always interested in brown hair and cheekbones, and height; and sometimes they are looking for shorter darker hair, no cheekbones and a bit more width, but even so! Look at them! Seductive temptress and tall handsome guy! Mingling their saliva and sharing body heat! Just as well I had a job offer for her at Championship when she came in, or I wouldn't have stood a chance!

There's no other bad news. That's it.

When the dancers start to just mess around on stage and the night of work is really over, Vivian hasn't come to see us so I can't help but picture her being busy sharing drinks, laughs and conversation with that tall perfect guy.

I look down at Alice, who at this stage has absolutely impaled herself orally on my cock, having had the time to fully overcome her gag reflex, she's using all of her newly accessible neck length to make the very most of my 11.2 inches. I glance over at Marcus who appears to be in a cool-down time after cumming, and is sharing a drink with Bronte. I look back at Alice who's lips are around the base of my dick, and tell her to swallow my shaft-end before ejaculating longingly directly into her stomach.

After this, we clean ourselves up, head to the bathroom for a piss before hailing a cab to drop Alice and me at my apartment before taking Marcus and Bronte back to his. By this stage we're so drunk and knackered that we just fall asleep together on the bed naked with porn playing on the tv in the background.

Is it so wrong wanting to be at home with your porn collection? It's not like collecting porn is like collecting scented candles or wind chimes. There's a whole world in here, a nicer, dirtier, more passionate, more peaceful, more colourful, sleazier, more enjoyable and more loving world than the world I live in; there is history, and geography, and fashion, and etiquette, and countless other things I should have studied in school, including sex education.

It was a joke, wasn't it, all that Vivian stuff? I was kidding myself that there was something I could go on to, an easy, seamless transition to be made. I can see that now. I can see everything once it's already happened — I'm very good at the past. It's the present I can't understand.

I get to work late, and there's a message from Liz on a yellow sticky note waiting for me at my desk. I'm to ring her st her work, urgently. I have no intention of ringing her at work. She wants to cancel our drink this evening, and I know why, and I'm not going to let her. She'll have to cancel to my face.

I get Annabelle to ring her back and tell her I won't be in all day — I've gone to a Sexpo out of town and I'm coming back specially for a date this evening. No, Annabelle doesn't have a number to contact me on. No, Annabelle doesn't think I'll be ringing Championship. I don't answer the phone for the rest of the day, just in case she tries to catch me out.

We've arranged to meet in a pub in a more boutique part of town, but it's a quiet rundown place with an exclusively independent brewery beer selection. I'm early, but I'm glad to have the chance to sink a few pints before Liz's arrival.

The date with Liz doesn't take long. I see her stomping toward my table — she's nice, Liz, but she's huge, and when she's angry, like she is now, she's pretty scary — and I try a smile, but I can see it's not going to work, because she's too far gone to be brought back like that.

"You're a fucking asshole, Rob," she says, and then turns around and walks out, and the people at the next table stare at me. I blush, stare at my shrinking pint, and take a long pull on my drink to empty my glass, and obscure my reddening face.

She's right, of course. I am a fucking asshole.